The Brat Princess
by Hollywood Grimm
Summary: Bart and his best friend Faye journey into the trashy South,Lisa lives with the D'Amico's and Tiffany has taken on the identity as blonde stripper Carla RoseOh did I mention that the dome never came off. Welcome to the post apocolyptic town of Springfield
1. Bleach Blonde, Carla

**Hey everybody! It's Doctor Mick hahaha. Yeah, that was bad, shut up xD. Anyways this is my new story, I had just finished watching The Simpsons Movie for the millionth time and…an idea came to me. What if the dome stayed on Springfield? What if Homer, Marge and Maggie were long gone? What happened to Bart, Lisa and their older sister (my OC) Tiffany? This story is going to include my OC's Tiff Simpson (Carla Rose), Faye Jones, Sadie Grimes, Aiden & Evan O'Brecht, Raine LaChance, Racy Raquel Rockslide and any other character I make up. I'm accepting OC's and would LOVE reviews to see what you think of this random ass story!!! R&R my lovelies**

**~Sweet Nightmares**

**~Mick, AKA Hollywood Grimm **

**Disclaimer: I own the plot and my characters; everything else is sadly not mine **

_**The Brat Princess**_

**Chapter 1; Bleach Blonde**

_It's been five years. Five fucking years inside this dome…_

Hi there. My name is Tiffany, Tiffany Carla Simpson to be precise… but I wouldn't dare go by that, I call myself Carla Rose because in the wrecked apocalyptic town of Springfield the Simpsons are hated. One thing you should know about me is that my hair is or…should I grudgingly say _was_ my pride; I miss it more than I miss my own family. But, so people won't recognize me, I was forced to bleach it to the point where it's white as snow with a hint of gold. I curl it every morning with a heated up iron, I know its dead…I pack it with hairspray and backcomb it…some say my hair resembles a lions mane. I remember my old hair, it was long and stick straight and jagged and it was strawberry blonde, fiery just like my personality. I miss my old friends Raine LaChance and Sadie Grimes…I wear brown contacts to cover up the blue grey of my eyes every single goddamned day. I rub cover-up over my garnet freckles so my face is all American white, I got rid of all my old clothes…but on the odd occasion I still wear old band t-shirts, ratty Converse and torn up jeans…a blue bandana tied around my head now instead of my prized red one. I left home a year after my moronic father Homer dumped his barrel of 'pig crap' into Lake Springfield which got the EPA on our case…resulting in Springfield being secluded in an unbreakable glass dome. Homer, Marge and Maggie escaped to Alaska…Bart lives with the Flanders as far as I know…and Lisa…I only wish I knew what happened to my genius little sister. I haven't seen any of them in four years. I left to live in the dirty outskirts of South Springfield, where most people were too occupied with getting their next hit to notice the daughter of a traitor in their midst. I bleached my hair with peroxide and started curling it, found a stash of colored contact lenses in an abandoned corner store, white-ed out my freckles and began dressing in clothes stolen from the deceased Mrs. Muntz' trashy closet. And then I started doing something I thought I'd never do…but people do crazy things when they need the money…that was my case, so instead of modestly becoming a waitress (not that there was a necessity for them in this insane free for all) or something…I strip, I get good pay, even work in Moe's a few nights a week, my father is long gone so I have no worries of being found out. I've done some things that I regret…scratch that…I've done LOTS of things that I regret, like for example having sex with countless men just so I would forget who I really am…but more so…I regret losing my red hair, my flaming crown of fucking glory. Did you know that by 2040 redheads are supposedly gonna be extinct? Didn't think so. I'm just helping to kill the race. Damn. I really do miss my family…well especially Bart and Lisa…Bart, the little trouble maker, ever the rebel without a cause…he's fifteen now…if he's even alive. I pine to see beautiful blonde super-smart Lisa alive and shining, her blue eyes bright, always standing up for the right thing, but I have no idea what has become of her. I miss my two best friends, Goth-even-in-childhood Raine and quiet but witty Sadie. Mostly…for some unknown reason I miss Jimbo Jones and his lackeys, the way they used to pick on me. I hated Jimbo as a kid…but thinking about it now…I wish that I could see him, I wonder if his voice is still raspy and cruel…I wonder if he still refuses to cut his hair…I wonder if his teasing was really because he harbored some rejected emotion towards me, the bratty red headed tomboy Tiffany. He used to call me 'The Brat Princess', the name stuck, people called me it until the day I disappeared into the slums of Springfield never to be heard of again.

"Hey, you"

I swing around to face the person talking to me, he looks to be around twenty, maybe younger, and he's unshaven, pallid, obviously a drug user…just like everyone else on the Southern side of Springfield. "Yeah?" I smirk; I'm wearing layers and layers of fire engine red lipstick, there's a silver stud beneath the middle of my lower lip, I pierced it myself with the tip of a syringe when I was fifteen.

"Are you Carla-Cums-Alot?"

Yes. THAT monstrosity is my stripper name; my friend Racy Rockslide dubbed me it, her real name is Raquel but everyone calls her Racy…cept for me. I smile seductively, almost laughing, pulling at the low-cut collar of my black leather corset. Kinky. "That's me"

The man pulls two fifty dollar bills from the pocket of his ruined blue jeans and hands them to me, a sadistic grin that shows off his smoker yellow teeth on his sickly face. "Baby, be mine for an hour" he flashes the delicious looking bills in front of my face, my eyes, contact brown, follow the money.

"Mmm, honey I'm a stripper not a whore" I say, flipping my fake white blonde curls back haughtily.

"Come on, I know you need the money, I see you on the streets beggin'" the man exclaims roughly

I stand up, the heels of my faded cheetah spotted Stiletto's leaving pock marks on the carpeted floor of the pool hall. "I aint no whore" I growl predatorily "I think you should leave now"

The man stands, so close that I can smell the stale cigarettes on his breath, I smoke too…but at least I chaw on some gum afterwards…yes GUM not CUM perv. Mint is my favorite flavor. Did I mention that I dreadfully miss my red hair? I did didn't I, oh well. "Listen here Miss Carla" the man sneers mockingly, I really wanna deck this asshole in the teeth. "You do what I say" he pins me against the wall, I raise a fist to punch but before I can actually do it he seizes my arms. Fuck. "You either do what I say, or I'll MAKE you do it"

Surprisingly after four years on the sleazy side of town, filled with druggies, mobsters, killers and whores I've never been raped once, and I plan to keep it that way. "Well guess what mister" I smile saccharinely, a fake smile that I've gained over the years.

"What bitch" he speaks from between clenched dank teeth, it makes me sick to my stomach.

"FUCK YOU" I shriek, he backs up in shock and with lightening speed I ball up my fist and nail him one in the face. Win, I grin triumphantly and spit on the floor beside his head, blood trickles from his lip where I've broken it. "Go back onto the street, you fucking scumbag!" I yell with bite in my voice. Security guards approach me on either side and I explain my story, I know these guys. I giggle as the two men throw the dirt bag rapist out of the hall, he screams a chain of swears as he's tossed out. "Thanks Carl, Lenny" They nod at me and smile. If only they knew who I really was.

After Carl and Lenny leave Miss Racy Rockslide comes out from behind the purple velveteen curtains, hands on hips, and smirks. "Damn Carla, you really decked that boy"

"Hello to you too Raquel" I snarl, batting my mascara blackened lashes angrily. I have to wear mascara every day otherwise my eyelashes are golden red, which would reveal my true color. God knows we can't have that.

The brunette stripper rolls her hazel eyes; they're lined with tons of black eyeliner, her collagen pumped lips are purple with gloss. "You sure can throw a punch girl" she chuckles "Oh" her brown-green eyes size up a tall young East Indian man as he enters the bar. "Mmm, look at that hot stuff"

I roll my eyes…hating that they're not my natural blue grey, I hate keeping my true self boxed up and filed away in the back of my mind. HATE it. "Yes Raquel…hot stuff" He looks a lot like Apu…I remember the owner of the Kwiki Mart fondly.

"I'm gonna go chat him up" Raquel winks lustily and kisses my cheek, it's her goodbye gesture, lets me know that she's about to leave and going to go try to get into yet ANOTHER unsuspecting guy's pants.

"Have fun" I sigh, this whole stripper thing has never really been my scene. I wanna be the singer of a rock band; Axl Rose is my idol, the ginger haired, red bandana wearing prince of rock 'n' roll. Now you know why I go by Carla Rose…but it is not Carla Rose who wants to go to LA California and make it big, it is not Carla Rose who misses her strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin and freckles. No, that person, that dreamer is the ginger tomboy rocker Tiffany Simpson. And I will ALWAYS be Tiffany Simpson; I don't think I can be Carla Rose much longer. I want my true identity back, I want my hair back, damn this bleach blonde. And mostly, I want to be The Brat Princess once more.


	2. The Post Apocolyptic Springfield, Bart

**Allo people, here's chapter 2, I know this story might kinda seem boring or uneventful right now but trust me that WILL CHANGE!!! Anyways R&R I ****wanna know what you guys think!!!**

***Sweet Nightmares***

****Mick, AKA Hollywood Grimm****

**Chapter 2, The Post Apocalyptic Springfield **

"Get offa me you little rat" I scream as Rod Flanders flings himself onto my back, he giggles maniacally and pulls at my scraggly blonde hair "GODDAMIT" No, four years of living with the Flanders has not made me into some sort of religious freak, it's actually done quite the opposite,; Christianity; having been shoved down my throat my whole life, subtly by my long departed mother Marge and then by Ned and his little Lutheran robots Rod and Tod has made me despise anything God like. My name is Bart Simpson Bartholomew J Simpson if you wanna get all detailed, but of course Ned insisted on having me enrolled into school and all under the name of Bart Flanders but it's legally still Simpson. I remember how everyone used to think that I would be the one to end up out on the street…and I would've if not for Flanders…but I almost regret agreeing to live with him and his too-perfect family, it's surreal. Lisa, believe it or not, lives with the D'Amico's, she and Michael were best friends so naturally after mum and dad left with Maggie, Lis, Tiff and I were left to fend for ourselves so she accepted the offer to live in Fat Tony's lascivious mansion, Tiffany had vanished a year earlier…I still don't know what has become of her, the only red head in our family and damn had she been proud of it. I miss her, the way her cold blue grey eyes used to flash like a storm when she was angry with anyone, she was always angry, that older sister of mine, her worst enemies had been Jimbo, Kearney and Dolph who had picked on her mercilessly…but especially Jimbo, fire used to ignite between them when they were together, it had been endless fun to watch them go at it, snarling and snapping and slapping eachother. Everyone else in this post apocalyptic town of Springfield has pretty much adapted to their surroundings…the dome's installment drastically changed life for some inhabitants of course…it shocked us all, not being able to get in any new food…we have one clean water supply at least, a trickle of a pipe that dribbles water into all the wrecked homes, on the North side of Springfield at least. The North had always been upper-class, us…the Simpson's had lived right on the borderline of North and South, in between the uptown preps and the low-town druggies, not middle class; more poor than rich. Tiffany went down deep into the South; I know that because she told me, I remember that night like it was yesterday…

"_You CAN'T tell mum or dad" rasped the twelve-going-on-thirteen year old girl to her eleven year old brother._

"_Where're you goin' Tiff?" the blonde yawned, confusion in his clear indigo eyes_

_She shook her head, her spiky strawberry blonde hair brushing her pale shoulders "Somewhere in South Springfield, but you don't tell no one Bart"_

"_You know me better than that" said the boy; he too was much more mature in some aspects than he should've been. "So" the infant blonde looked more suited to surfer California than dome covered disaster Springfield "Why're you leavin'?" _

"_Because I just have to ok" said the ginger haired girl slowly and strongly, her voice had a hard edge, her eyes probed around the dark bedroom with razor sharpness; aged beyond her years. _

_Bart eyed his sister warily; if anyone could survive out alone in the slums it would be her, she was determined and wild and vicious, angry, raging, gifted and cursed with a damned short temper…sometimes downright mean, and that's why he adored her. That was Tiffany, ever the dreamer, aspiring rock singer, never afraid to stand out…she _lived_ to stand out and be something different. "I get it. I wanna leave to; can I come with you Tiff, please?"_

_Her icy eyes closed momentarily, a pained expression sliding across her full ruby red lips. "Not Bart, you're ten, come find me when you're a bit older, m'kay?" she ruffled the boy's shaggy golden hair affectionately. _

"_I will" the kid smiled halfheartedly_

"_I'll call you" grinned the rambunctious redhead "See ya later, give the family my love" And with that she turned away, her long hair flying out behind her as she exited the ramshackle house, her thin shoulders hunched up, her faded black leather jacket gave her a tough look, and she was tough, god was she tough. _

That's the last time I ever seen my big sister, she never called…we had no phone, I realized that only after she'd left. I'm sick of not knowing what happened to Tiff…I need to find out. I walk about the Flanders house; it is still not home to me, no matter how long I've been situated here. Rod is following me around like a puppy, his auburn ringlets bounce every time he jumps in front of me and I really do want to slap the boy upside the head. "Fuck off loser" I growl, shouldering the younger Flanders boy out of the road and making my way up the stairs and to my roomy attic bedroom. I grab a large ratty army backpack and begin shoving things into it; clothes, comic books, shampoo, deodorant, my Gameboy, an extra pair of ruined black Converse, I have my lime green ones on now, a bunch of other crap and I'm set.

"Bart, BART" It's the whiny voice of Tod from outside the door.

"What Tod?" I sigh, pulling on a faded black hoodie over my orange t-shirt.

"Dad says supper's ready" Tod explains in his chiming little way, it pisses me off to no end. But I'll go eat with them for the last time, then I'll call my best friend in the world, Faye Jones, and then we shall embark on an adventure that will take us deep into the South.

As usual supper consists of gross potatoes mashed into soupy gravy, I excuse myself from the table and sneak Ned's phone into my room. I dial her number. Ring. _Oh come on Faye, pick up, please pick up. _Ring. Ring. Ring. _Goddamit Faye, you're always home, PICK UP FOR CHRISTS SAKE. _Ring. Ring. "'Lo?" Jimbo, his voice is so raspy it's instantly recognizable.

"Hey, is your sister home?" I ask

"Yeah" the older boy snorts "FAYE ITS SIMPSON ON THE PHONE FOR YOU" There is the sound of much fumbling and then finally her voice comes over the line "Hello"

"Faye do you wanna go on the adventure of a lifetime?" I grin into the receiver, putting on my best showbiz voice.

"Mmm depends" she chuckles, I can picture her now; twisting strands of her long blue black hair around her fingers, rolling her chocolate brown eyes. "What kind of adventure?"

"This is serious Faye. Not a trip to the junkyard to smoke weed…I wanna go down to South Springfield"

There is silence; all I hear for a minute is her breathing, then a bewildered "Why?"

"Tiffany, I haven't heard from her in four years" I sigh "I gotta find her Faye…and if you won't come with me I have no problem going by myself"

"No, no" she exclaims "Of course I'll go with you, that's what best friends are for right" I can hear the smile on her voice

"Meet me at the edge of town in an hour okay" I whisper, for I hear Ned outside the door, listening in to my every word.

"I'll be there"

"And Faye?"

"Yeah?" she murmurs

"Bring your knives"


	3. Take Me Away, Carla

**Here's chapter 3 my darlings, the story is starting to pick up a bit ;D Please R&R I've only one reviewer for this story and I love her for caring enough to review this [= As always my pretties; enjoy**

**~Sweet Nightmares**

**~Mick, AKA Hollywood Grimm **

_**Chapter 3, Take Me Away**_

"Carlaaaa"

"Yes Racy" Shit, I meant to call her Raquel, she hates that.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" Her eyes take in our apartment; my stuff is strewn about everywhere.

"I'm—I'm leaving Raquel, I just need to go back home for awhile ya know"

"This IS home Carla" she exclaims, wrapping her spray tanned arms about me, breathing against my neck "You're my bestest friend I dun want you to leave"

I smile tearfully, it all honesty a little bit of me will miss racy Raquel too "I'm gonna miss you girl" I whisper "But this has never really been home"

She lets go of me and begins pacing the length of our ratty living room and suddenly she stops, like a light has just lit in her "I'm gonna come with you Carla"

"W-What?"

"I'm gonna come with you" she smiles fiercely, twisting her luscious brunette waves back into a loose ponytail.

Should I let her come with me? What would be the harm…? "Alright"

Her grin widens and I can't help but laugh as she begins hopping up and down excitedly "Will I get to meet your family, the other Rose's" she says mysteriously waggling her fingers.

My heart stops for a second "I told you…they escaped to Alaska" My gaze shifts to the badly carpeted floor; I twirl my lip stud around with my tongue, a nervous habit I've acquired over time.

"Why didn't they take you?" Racy asks innocently enough, she bends down and begins shoving her possessions into a so-sparkly-that-it's-cheesy bag.

I shrug "I wanted to stay" and then I stop speaking, my stripper friend need not know more than that.

"Hmm" Raquel rolls her thin shoulders and laughs "That's odd" Her skin is powdered with glitters, her eyelashes lengthened with fake ones, she is so unreal with her 'pleather' jackets and leopard print pumps.

"What can I say" I grin obnoxiously "Odd is my middle name"

"Really?" God, Racy is so simple minded sometimes.

"Yes Raquel" I grumble, flicking one fake scarlet fingernail against another. I bend down and pick up my old red Converse, how long has it been since I've worn these? Years, do they even fit me anymore? There's no way in hell I'm walking back North in cheetah spotted Stiletto's. I sit myself down on our fuzzy purple love seat, kick off my high heels, and begin pulling on the sneakers, charming; they fit, but only just.

"What" her green-brown eyes look at me, one drawn on eyebrow cocks upwards "are those?" she nods to my shoes

"Converse Racy, you know…running shoes. They were the only thing I would wear back when I was a kid" I smirk at her open mouthed expression; she really hasn't known anything but the shallow art of materialism. "I'm gonna go take a bath m'kay?" It's probably the last one I'll have for awhile, but I decide against telling that to Raquel. The bathroom is tiny but alright…there's a big bathtub in the corner with a shower too but I've always preferred baths, the floor is made up of slick jade green tiles and right beside the toilet resides a full body mirror. I pass by the mirror in a flash, catching sight of my poofy blonde curls and freckle-less skin. It makes me feel sick. I flip on the taps and peel off my corset, mini skirt and magenta undergarments. I miss dressing like a boy. The water is soothingly warm on my skin, washing away the cover-up and all the makeup, my contact lenses sit on the bathroom counter in their little container; I send a pointless scowl in their direction. I pick up the small circular mirror that I use when I'm plucking my eyebrows and look at myself, the black eyeliner has washed off revealing my red gold eyebrows and the tired bags under my eyes; my stormy blue eyes. The fire engine red lipstick has also washed away, my lips are a natural plump ruby red on their own, I smile, the silver stud shines; I love my labret piercing. I dunk my head beneath the bubbly water and come back up, my bleach blonde hair is slick and straight, the red roots are just beginning to peek out, but they can wait a few more weeks, I have no shortage of my hair bleach. I could have gone brunette or maybe raven black, radical hot pink, psychedelic neon green, I sneer…why in god's name did I go blonde? But then I remember why; for awhile I'd idolized Marilyn Monroe, around when I was thirteen to fourteen…and that's how my hair ended up this way. I hadn't wanted to dye it though; I only did it to cover up my identity.

"Ya done Car?" Racy Raquel asks in her slightly nasally voice, I roll my eyes though she is on the other side of the door.

"No Race, you're gonna hafta wait" I hear her audible sigh from outside but I couldn't care less. I sink down into the bath water and smile in satisfaction; it's been so long since I've actually relaxed in the tub, Racy can wait. Eons later I step out of the soapy dirty water, pull the plug, and plug my blow dryer in. The hot air makes my hair fly about; the finished product is semi-poofy but still straight blonde tresses. I take out my old trusty curling iron and soon my curls are back. Hairspray and backcombing comes next and soon my blonde lengths are vicious as a lion's mane, a real tribute to the 80's glam rockers of LA. I grudgingly stick in my muddy brown contacts, blinking as my eyes get used to them, the long golden red lashes flipping rapidly. I quickly brush on ebony mascara, the midnight black eyeliner comes next; I draw on perfectly arched brows over my too-thin strawberry blonde toned ones and line on a bit of the eyeliner around my eyes as well. Then the bright red lipstick, I pucker my lips blowing a saccharine kiss into to my reflection, but it's not me looking back from the mirror, that poodle haired blonde stripper with the silver stud through the bottom middle of her mouth, that girl…that woman is Carla Rose…the girl I yearn for is named Tiffany Simpson. Who I am on the inside is completely different from who I play…I always did love acting, but I've been acting for too long.

"CARRRLA" comes the whine again, I don't even bother answering, turning to pull on a fresh summer green thong and matching lace bra instead. Suddenly the door flys open, Raquel stands in the doorway with her arms crossed, her eyebrows lifted. "Nice underwear" she purrs, snapping her fingers "Hurry up girl if you wanna get goin before it gets dark out"

I turn and nod "Yeah we should leave ASAP"

Racy approaches me, tossing me my studded armband; I still wear that from my tomboy days, she stops in her tracks, her lush ponytail whips forward, her full painted pink lips part. "Carla" she says worriedly, scrutinizing my face "What the fuck happened"

I'm confused, I look into the mirror and gasp…I forgot to apply my porcelain white foundation…my garnet freckles stand out like a red light. "Umm, acne" I glob the cover-up into my hands and quickly rub it over my face, successfully covering each sun kissed ginger freckle. "There" I fake grin and hastily exit the washroom, my back pack is packed full, I shove in what I had been previously wearing and grab the clothes I left on my bed. Raquel watches quizzically as I pull on torn up pale blue skinny jeans that lace up either side with provocative red ribbon and an equally fire red corset that laces up the front, sides and back with black lace. I tug a baggy black hoodie overtop the sultry outfit and place my hands on my wide hips. "Okay" I hoist my backpack onto my narrow shoulders. "Let's go"


	4. God Save The South, Bart

**Here's chapter four everyone ;D I hope you enjoy it, I'M ACCEPTING OC'S SO SEND THEM IN [; R&R my lovelies**

**~Sweet Nightmares**

**~Mick, AKA Hollywood Grimm**

**Chapter 4, God Save The South**

Her black hair glistens under the Halloweenish glow of the streetlight; it hangs down straight and loose, sleek ink toned silk down to her thin waist, as a kid she'd always had it short but as she got older she let it grow out. I love running my fingers through those deliciously midnight colored locks. Her skin is pallid; she used to be golden tanned thanks to her Native heritage but when the dome had been installed, when we were deprived of pure delectable sunlight she whitened…just like the rest of this doomed town. My hair had once been shiny and sunny blonde, now it is scraggly; resembling what Kurt Cobain's mane looked like before his tragic death. "Faye" her name rings out emptily in the night silence; no one is out at this hour in North Springfield, but seen as we are on the borderline I hear the far off sounds of the South's dodgy night life beginning. Her head whips around so she's facing me; her hair is so metallic under the light that it looks flesh cuttingly dangerous. She wears ratty black Converse that go up to her knees; their dirty white laces are strewn about like old spaghetti. Her long thin legs are covered by ratty blue skinny jeans, torn to the point where they look like they're about to fall apart, her curvaceous torso is hidden beneath a shapeless faded black Pink Floyd t-shirt, a navy blue sweater covers her thin arms and a thick silver chain hangs about her neck. The silver ring that hangs down from her septum shines, I pierced it for her with a nail…I had dreaded doing it, especially when the blood flowed from her nose like there was no tomorrow…but it turned out fine just like the ear piercing she'd given me.

"Hmm?" she murmurs when I am but a foot away from her still form, a cigarette hangs from her mouth, she passes me it and I take a deep drag.

"You ready?"

Faye pulls her knife collection from her ratty blue school bag and opens the box they reside in, shining razor sharp silver faces me and I smile, then she slams the lid shut just as quickly as she opened it and shoves the wooden box into her bag. "As ready as I'll ever be" Her voice is strong in the still night and I find an odd comfort in it.

"Come on then" I clench my teeth, we turn so we are facing the South, terrible apartments, flickering lights, strip clubs, drug dealers, the mafia, whores prowling the streets, rat infested sidewalks, police sirens sounding out in a terrifying monster howl, in that moment of complete stillness I take Faye's hand in mine and she holds on tighter than ever before. We are about to go on a trek through the most dangerous parts of Springfield, Southern Springfield could compete with LA, filled with murderers and dreamers alike.

"Let's go" croaks Faye, she takes the first step, it proves that she is braver than I. And she is, I won't even deny it man, she may be a thin little white girl but Faye Jones is the strongest person I know…besides Tiffany that is.

I join my best friend on the South side; lift my head in pride, my brown blonde hair falling over one blue eye. We walk down the sidewalk, close to eachother but not making any real physical contact; we are here to find my sister…and nothing more. I catch sight of two drug ravaged girls, bones poking out in malnourishment exchanging cocaine, Faye gulps and looks away, I do the same. How are we going to find her? I glance back at the crack head girls. "Faye" I tug the back of her sweater and she halts "I'm gonna ask those girls if they know Tiff" Her dark brown eyes look black in the darkness, she digs her long thin fingers into the fabric of my black hoodie and I lead her towards the girls. "Hey" I greet the two females who look to be no more than seventeen or eighteen.

"Hi?" The less jittery one places a bony hand on her jutting hips "100 bucks for a blowjob, 95 for a handjob…oh" her nasally vice peaks up as she catches sight of wide eyed Faye. "Little girl, I think you're lost" she chides, sneering; the other girl is shaking and picking at herself like crazy.

"I'm not here for your services" I snap harshly "I was just wondering if you know a girl named Tiffany, Tiffany Simpson"

"No" the bitchy girl replies "Simpson" her tiny nose crinkles "They're the ones who got us under this goddamn dome in the first place right? Hun, if there is a Tiffany Simpson around here she wouldn't go by that name" The whore pulls at the waist line of her ridiculously short jean mini skirt "Mmm, you're a tasty thing though aren't you" her dazed green eyes size me up "Haha" she chuckles softly "My name is Candy and that" she nods to her fucked up friend "is Sugar-Dawn" she smiles sickly and slips a card into my jean pocket "When you get rid of the little girl, give me a call" she winks lustily, tosses back her auburn curls and struts back over to where 'Sugar-Dawn' stands gnawing on her yellowy fingernails.

"That was a lot of help" I grumble, leading Faye away from the two crack whores.

"But—it was" Faye looks up at me, a smile graces her plump lips "That Candy bitch said that if there was a Tiff Simpson around here she wouldn't go by that name…soo"

"So we're screwed, she probably completely changed her appearance too" I groan and smack my hand to my forehead "How the hell are we supposed to find her when all we have to go by is a school photo taken when she was twelve" I slide the old picture from my jeans and let Faye see it under the light of a flickering streetlamp, it shows Tiffany smiling, her long strawberry blonde hair is a spiky backcombed mess, she wears torn up blue jeans and a Guns N' Roses t-shirt, her face is lightly freckled, her cold eyes sparkling. "I haven't seen her in four years, who knows, she might be a crack whore just like Candy or Sugar-Dawn" God I can't picture Tiff twitching and picking madly at her skin, it disgusts me. I look back over my shoulder, dark skinned Sugar-Dawn, probably once a Latino beauty, is crying…why, I don't know and Candy is holding her protectively, her mane of red brown hair is blanketing the darker girl's bony hallow face. I'm half disgusted and half heart broken; those two girls were once lively young things…circumstance got them into cocaine and whoring themselves out. Observing them I can almost picture Candy with a healthy glow to her spray tanned skin and Sugar-Dawn with some meat on her bones, her black hair thick and lustrous, her skin golden, the hollows beneath her big dark eyes gone. God save the South.

"We'll find her" Faye whispers, pushing back her lush inky hair with one lightly boned hand, find who? Oh right, Tiffany…find her…I can only hope. Fuck.

She yawns, covering her mouth in a gesture too polite for the area. "You tired?" Faye nods, her locks bouncing plentifully against her thin shoulders. "Let's find a place to sleep then" I give her a gentle smile which she returns tiredly, she rubs her eyes like a sleepy child would. My eyes scan the place; alleyways with pimps and hookers, drug deals going on, the mafia shooting people up, rape, murder, terror. Why the fuck did I bring Faye into this. We start walking down the sidewalk as nonchalantly as we can, our eyes trained inconspicuously on the pavement. Give a guy or babe the wrong look and they'd send their gang after you. Finally we come across a deserted school, not completely deserted; there are cars parked in the driveway…the windows are fogged up and I know what this place is; the bullies who'd been here like Dolph and Faye's own brother Jimbo told me about it. The old parking lot of Southern Springfield High was where everyone came to make love; it was called Lovers Lot, how stereotypical, right. "Lovers Lot" I mouth to Faye, who smirks and arches one skinny black eyebrow.

"Mhmm, Jimbo always used to tell me about it…he said he came here a few times to get with the Southern belles" she snorts "More like Southern sluts" I nod in agreement and she parts her rose pink lips to speak "So why'd you bring me here, Lover" she laughs again and digs her fingers into the fabric of my hoodie provocatively.

"Safest place to be, we're gonna go sleep somewhere in the old school" I decide to play along with her seductive game, and so I lean down, my bottom lip brushing her ear lobe "Cos we don't have a car" She rolls her chocolate brown eyes and I burst into laughter. We make our way to the wrecked high school and slip through a broken window, the glass has been smashed out, into the school. The tiled floor was once ivory but is now yellow as a smokers teeth, wait Faye smokes…I glance her teeth, they're getting there, mind you, so are mine. Goddamn addictive cancer sticks, not like I care, I take pleasure in breathing in the acrid killer smoke and in holding the delicate almost classy cigarette between my middle and index fingers. We go down corridor after corridor until we reach a set of stairs, I lead her beneath the unoccupied stairwell and take a thick blanket from my backpack, it is the only one I brought, I toss it onto the surprisingly clean floor and seat myself.

Faye stands, looking about, tracing her long fingers over the graffiti marked walls. 'Mike fucked Janice here 1999' she rolls her eyes and then looks down at me. "I didn't bring any blankets or anything"

"Oh, shit, well you can sleep with me" I snort at the statement and she crooks a skeptical eyebrow "Oh Faye you know what I mean"

"Yeah, yeah" she says, sitting down with me "I'm tired but…fuck I wish I had some alcohol to get me to sleep faster"

"Well…" I begin digging through my backpack, smirking I pull out a flask of hard liquor and twist off the cap. "Take a sip babe" Faye gulps down some of the heating drink and sighs contentedly. She lies down on the blanket; I take a swig of liquor put it away and then lay down too. I wrap my arms around her…its cold okay, and she snuggles into me "G'night"

"'Night"

My eyes are locked on the ceiling full of writing, something catches my eye; written in chunky red marker: **God Save The South. **


	5. Attack Attack, Carla

**Hallo, here's the next chapter guys!!!! R&R ^_^ I will be updating soon and I need some OC's!!!!! Send em in! **

**~Sweet Nightmares**

**~Mick, AKA Hollywood Grimm**

**Chapter 5, Attack, Attack**

"This is taking forever" groans Raquel, trudging in her violet high heels behind me, I'm so fucking glad my good old Converse still fit me.

"Stop complaining Racy, you're the one who wanted to come" I can't help but smile smugly at the pained look on her made-up face as she walks with me.

"I know" she whines, her drawn on black brows bending, her fake eyelashes brushing her cheeks, the sparkly white eyeshadow she sports sparkles under the streetlamps which are our only source of light. "But come on Carla, can't we rest for the night, its dark"

"Mmm" I place one long finger against my chin and then laugh "No, we're gonna continue on for just a while longer, okay?"

Racy sighs, her sandy brown waves fall against her face "Yeah, yeah" she grumbles irritably, checking her badly manicured purple and pink fingernails in the light of a passing car.

I push back my mane of white gold curls and cock an eyebrow "Where's a good place to spend the night anyways?"

"Hmm" Raquel tosses her thick brown ponytail back, picks at her white fishnet tights with long plastic nails. "The old school by Lovers Lot is all I can think of" she says in her nasally voice, it reminds me of Columbia's from The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

"Mmm, that's pretty far away though isn't it?" I squint, my scarlet lips twisting, it isn't warm out and it isn't cold. The month is November but with the dome on there is no wind or rain or snow, the temperature at night is always a few unpleasant degrees lower than comfortable but a sweater is all that is needed. We kissed winter attire goodbye five years ago.

"Hmm" Raquel purses her glossy lips "True…but if you wanna get through the night untouched, I recommend we walk for an hour to reach old South Springfield High"

"YOU" A strong hand lands on my shoulder, the fingers curling into my hoodie, my contact brown gaze slides sideways and I see my captor; the man who had tried paying me to have sex with him earlier.

"Shit" I mutter, Racy has stopped in her tracks, she too recognizes the guy and begins chewing thoughtfully on her pouty bottom lip.

"Hey Marilyn Monroe" he roughly grabs at my face "Where's yer beauty mark, huh?" his grip tightens and I hiss in pain as his dirty fingernails break the skin of my jaw. 'Get help' I mouth to Raquel, she nods, her hazel eyes wide, and hightails it down the street, her heels clicking noisily. "Guess your friend aint that good of a friend is she" laughs the young man, too stupid to figure out that she could be running for help.

"Guess not" I chuckle nervously "So" it's so fucking hard to talk through the harsh hold he has on me "What's your name?"

"Why should I tell you, Miss Carla hmm" he growls, sending a shiver down my spine. "Well it's Olli and that's all I'll tell you bitch"

"Well then Olli" I spit, cocking one drawn on black eyebrow arrogantly "If I were you I'd fuck off"

"Excuse me?" snorts Olli incredulously, shaking back his long greasy chestnut hair. I see Racy rounding the corner now, two crack whores, a classy honey blonde and a tall boy in tow.

"Let go of her" the boy tears Olli off of me, he looks stately with his high end black tuxedo, leather boots and greased back chocolate brown hair…but he looks young…too young, he is tall…5'7. The girl is smaller; 5'4 at the most, she has flowing honey blonde waves of hair that go down to her budding chest, pretty china blue eyes and looks strikingly familiar.

"Thank you" I sigh in relief, leaning against Racy Raquel Rockslide and shaking the brunette boy's hand "I'm Carla- Carla Rose"

"Pleased to meet you, I am Michael D'Amico, and this is my sister Lisa" he smiles boyishly "And these two ladies" He nods to the crack whores, pfft ladies my ass. "Are Candy and Sugar-Dawn"

"Do you mind me asking your age" I smirk; my eyes still locked on the delicate blonde girl Michael claims is his sister; they look nothing alike.

"Thirteen, as is my dear sister" His voice is honey smooth, deep, sounding every bit seventeen rather than thirteen.

"I would never have guessed" I exclaim, why is the blonde so goddamn familiar? I scrutinize her big blue eyes, the mascara lengthened black lashes, the petite nose, pretty petal pink lips, the circle of iridescent pearls hanging about her slender neck. No, no, no…it can't be. But it is, I would recognize those ever so feminine features and sky blue eyes anywhere. Lisa, my sister Lisa Simpson…she's been living with the D'Amico's to protect her identity? The mafia, if there was one thing I could never picture my genius little sister doing it was being a part of the mob. But lo and behold… "The D'Amico's are a Northern family aren't they…what're you doing on the South side?"

"Some business on our father's behalf" Lisa explains, she has taken on a lilting Italian accent…I feel nauseous. How could she do this…she had such a bright future…but not in Springfield, she can still have an amazing future but somewhere far far away, all she ever could have done here was become a brooding housewife like our mother. She wears a seductive dark blue dress; it's strapless and sparkly, the length flowing down to the ground, a white fox fur boa is wrapped about her shoulders; Lisa wearing fur…another thing she never would have done.

"You're lucky we were around" the auburn haired whore says, her voice is even more nasally than Racy's.

"Quite" I want to slap the slut in the face, what did she do? Stand around attempting to look pretty while Michael tore Olli off of me.

Speaking of Olli, I whip my head back and forth "He's gone" Lisa smiles warmly, is she the girl I remember? Sweet and smart and independent?

"Oh okay" I rub my arms and shake my head, glad that the crimson corset I wear wasn't visible beneath my frumpy sweater when Olli attacked. "Thanks again for saving my ass man, that Olli guy is after me, I don't fucking know why--"

"Its cos he wants you" the girl with the red brown curls, Candy, smiles sadistically, I can practically see her underwear her jean mini skirt is so short, her too-big cleavage is revealed by the swooping neckline of her magenta tank top.

"What" I sneer a bit and turn to the girl, she is so bony that her voluptuous round breasts look out of place, her skin is spray tan orange, her green eyes look glazed over.

"He did the same to me, only he didn't call himself Olli, he was Mark then, but I let him have me" she smiles, her bad teeth showing "for the fair price of 100$, I was thirteen then…but I would recognize that guy anywhere. He had you too right Sugar-Dawn?"

The jittery Latino girl nods, I've seen her and Candy making their rounds before, when she opens her mouth to speak I am dumbstruck…I've never once heard Sugar-Dawn talk. "Yeah, I was twelve…and I didn't charge him anything" Her voice is shaky, but it is beautifully accented and I think that before she got into the drugs…because it is obvious she has…she must have been gorgeous. It goes to show what living in the South does to a girl.


	6. The Devils Cabana Boy, Faye

**Yo, here's chapter 6. And yes, I did just say yo XD. R&R or else I'll be too unmotivated to keep this story going xD**

**~Don't have a cow man**

**~Mick, AKA Hollywood Grimm**

**Chapter 6, The Devils Cabana Boy**

They call him the devils cabana boy, and why wouldn't they. He's wild, wild, wild and the reason I wake up in the morning, not that I'd ever tell him that. I stretch my arms high above my head and yawn, wipe the sleep from my eyes, I can feel left over black eyeliner circling my optics along with deep sugar brown hollows. My long, _long _inky hair is in a mess, tangled in clumps. I feel gross, the clunky old school grew surprisingly hot over night and my body is sticky with sweat. I unzip my backpack and take out a clean outfit…where to change. If I change here there's always the chance Bart will wake up and see me…I gulp…would I even mind? I shake my head vigorously, of course I'd care if my best friend seen me naked. But…if I get dressed somewhere else…I could get kidnapped…mugged…raped, I gulp again, killed. Screw it; I'll wait until he wakes up. I watch his peacefully sleeping form and wander how anyone could think bad of him…a smirk makes its way across my lips as soon as the thought comes to me because there are plenty of reasons to detest Bartholomew Jojo Simpson; he treats most people like dirt, he gave up pranking after the goddamned dome tore apart our lives and started just being plain mean…but everyone's patience runs low after being cooped up together for awhile. He never says a harsh word to me…I guess that means something right. His long cinnamon brown eyelashes brush his cheek bones, the flesh is not taught over them, he still has that boyish smile that makes his cheeks crinkle up and his eyes sparkle. His long dirty blonde hair splays out across one side of his face, a shower of sandy brown gold strands. He must've taken his hoodie off sometime during the night because he is clad in nothing but a threadbare orange t-shirt now. The sleeves are haphazardly rolled up, revealing tattoos that Flanders never knew he got. I pull up the corner of my sweater and consider the black and red stars inked across my jutting left hip bone…we'd both gotten illegally done tats when we were thirteen. Nelson Muntz knew a guy. I couldn't help it, my fingers reached forward and began tracing over Bart's arm. He had so many tattoos; there was a bloody red heart that said 'Mother' in it in fancy black script, a fist pumping into the air with the words 'Yellow Power' written beneath it, one of a snarling red devil and another of the Simpson's first cat Snowball with delicate writing proclaiming; 'In loving memory'.

"Hmm, huh" he startles awake, his eyes flutter open and I feel something in my stomach jolt, I really want to punch myself in the gut right now. His rosy lips pull up in a sugary smile against the hard wall of his crooked teeth. I smile in return; I can feel the blood rush to my face, successfully reddening my usually pallid cheeks. Bart Simpson…I sigh and pull at the thick silver chain that hangs about my thin neck. His sudden movement startles me but when he begins to run his fingers through my ebony mane I am not at all surprised…he's had this obsession with my hair ever since I've grown it long.

"Good morning" I snort with laughter when the blonde gives me a dazed look, his bright blue eyes are glazed over…he must've had more liquor last night than I thought. He tries to sit up but falls back onto the blanket with a groan, I can't hold in the giggle that follows. I grab his shoulders and pull him up, he slumps against me and I smirk. "Hungover?"

"Yeah" Bart says in his best whimper, he rubs his hand over his forehead and groans again, resting his face against my shoulder.

I shudder with laughter…and _something else. _"I need to get changed into something" my lips turn up in a sneer as I examine my sweat cold clothing. "Clean…"

Bart chuckles, flipping back his thick wavy hair, so like Kurt Cobain's it makes me wanna scream. He pops a cigarette between his lips and grins doggishly around it. Soon it's lit and emitting silky grey smoke. "Go ahead" he stares at me smolderingly "I won't look" He turns away and picks a Radioactive Man comic out of his back pack, his fingers begin flicking through it. I bet he's read it thousands of times. Its issue number 13, between him and Millhouse they have the first 814 issues…pretty sad when you think about it.

I hesitantly lift my dank t-shirt and bra off replacing them with an all-too-girly pink bra and a skin tight faded red Aerosmith tank top. I gulp, my gaze takes in where I am…under the stairwell of some abandoned high school with my best friend. He's reading a comic book and smoking a cigarette as I strip out of my jeans and underwear…on go the matching all-too-girly pink boy shorts. He turns. Shit. My eyes widen. So do his. I blush madly as he takes me in, I can feel his gaze shifting from my rarely revealed curves down to my long legs. "Bart!" I exclaim

"Sorry" he shakes his blonde head shamelessly and I see a little smirk twitch the corner of his full lips. Why does he have to be so goddamn attractive, I bit down on my bottom lip. Hard. So hard that I taste a bit of coppery blood in my mouth. He snorts and then lifts the comic book to cover the smug look I know has appeared on his pretty face.

I roll my deep brown eyes and pull on my faded black jeans; they have a hole right on the ass. Lovely. I zip up the zipper and button up the button with some trouble, jesus, they're getting small. "Okay" I swallow back the saliva that has accumulated in my throat "I'm done" He looks at me, his eyebrows raised as I pull on my knee high Converse.

"You have a pretty nice body Faye Wray" he smirks my nickname smoothly; I wonder if he knows what he's doing to me by playing his seductive little mind games. My face heats up and I hate myself for it.

"Shut up" I mutter from the corner of my mouth, my skinny black eyebrows bend down in annoyance, annoyance that he can get to me so easily.

"Why, what's wrong babe" He did _not _just call me babe, I suddenly feel a pair of long warm arms link their way around my waist and I stiffen.

"Bart, what do you think you're doing" my voice is wispy, Goddamit, why can't I just be normal around him. Then my eyes slide so the object of my affections is in sight and I remember why. Long thick blonde mane, glimmering blue eyes, tall, willowy, thin…beautiful in every aspect…those lips, those eyes…everything. I growl, for fucks sake I sound like a love sick little girl…but I am aren't I. Ughh. When did I start feeling this way….when we were kids…even when we were twelve or thirteen I could strip down to my undergarments before him without reddening. I guess it was when he pierced my septum…when he seen all that blood flowing from my nose he almost cried he was so worried about me, and I was sobbing like a baby…he held me all night…he kissed my forehead and whispered sweet nothings into my ear, he read me dirty limericks from an old book Homer gave him and made me laugh through the tears. And I guess that's when I realized that I was in love with my best friend.


End file.
